


The Midgardians

by DeniedLove



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, F/F, F/M, Jumping Realities, Love, Love Triangle, M/M, Modern World Meets The Witcher, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, trying a new thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeniedLove/pseuds/DeniedLove
Summary: A work in progress involving all of us.Takes place after last episode of first season.Yennifer has created her blast of fire and falls through a temporary portal not created by her. She falls into a reality seconds from apocalypse and witnesses strange people rushing into her reality out of desperation.Our world has died. Our technology has gone as far as letting us jump realities.... once... blindly.I use the term Midguard not from the Marvel lore but from the original term of Norse Mythology.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Jaskier/Original Female Character, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	1. Yennifer and the Dying World

**Author's Note:**

> Before you start this please know it’s just a thought I had. I noticed the most of the fan fiction is lacking in bisexual characters and polyamorous relationships.
> 
> This story will follow many paths including apologies between parties, budding romances, and the restart of our civilization in a new reality. It is weird and I apologize if it’s not your cup of tea. I just need to get some of these ideas out of my head.
> 
> Please be kind and thank you for reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennifer finds herself lost to a portal that she did not creat after her outburst of chaos at the battle of Sodden Hill. A world in its last seconds of dying and a host of refugees flood into her reality.

Yennifer’s body burned with expended energy as she fell. It was a stomach dropping, nauseating sensation, before she fell through a portal and landed on hard ground. The commotion and chaos that surrounded her was overwhelming. People of all types rushed by her surrounding her in a mixture of emotions of excitement, fear, and desperation. 

Yennifer watched families, lovers, and elderly rush through the portal that she seemed to have just fall out of. With effort and pain she lifted herself off the dusty ground and saw that this portal, not of her own making, looked similar to the ones she can make but somehow, different. As the people rush by her she sees metallic boxes and oddly color rope. Faire lights and tops spinning. A hand full of people are rushing around this metal contraption yelling instructions out to each other. The scene reminded her of sailors on a boat calling out the wind speed, sail angle, and the tides as a storm brews above and below them. However, this seems out of place in her mind as the entire situation is new, unfamiliar. 

Yennifer realizes the flood of bodies is coming to an end. Looking back behind her she sees a wall of water towering over the land. The trees are sparse, the ground dry, and everything around her dead. With a quick look she can see the bodies piled up. Wherever she was, it was an apocalypse. She turns around just in time to see the last of the “crew” look to her and motion for her. Yelling over the carnage of the dying world around her. She reached out and took the woman’s hand just in time to be swept back through the portal into her reality again. 

As soon as the women are pulled through the portal closes behind them. Yennifer sees in her companions hand is one of those odd color ropes with some smaller medal possibly coper cables sticking out of it. 

Dazed she looks up around her into the burnt out landscape of Sodden Hill. Where there once was dead mages and villagers, once an army of Nilfgaurd, now stood people. ‘No’, she thinks to herself ‘Refugees!’ of a dead world. 

It takes her a moment to realize she’s still holding the strange woman’s hand and it seems the strange woman was also in her own state of disheveled mind when she too looks over at Yennifer and then down at their hands. A bright blush covers her medium complexion creeping up to her blue eyes and her curled brownish read hair. A heart beat latter and Yennifer’s hand is dropped. 

The woman gives her a small tired smile as she steps forward, pockets and cabled rope, and raises her hands above her head. In a loud voice of commanding she cries out “Silence! Calm!”  
The buzz of confusion and energy disperses as all eyes turn Yennifer’s direction. Slowly people move in. Circling the young woman. Filling in behind the mage also. 

“Listen!” The woman cries “We have made it through the portal.” 

Her accent! Yennifer realizes that she understands most of the words this woman is saying. Some of them are pronounced differently and the accent is like none she has heard before. Silence is fallen amongst the people standing around her. 

“We are not sure what reality number we have fallen into, however, we have arrived. The first thing we need is to execute the arrival plan. Managers, please start organizing your groups.” 

In amazement the group of people separate. Putting themselves together into their own groups of communication. After a few minuets and instructions being handed out seven people present themselves back to the center. Their train of conversation borders confusing and is hard to follow in Yennifer’s state of exhaustion. She catches a few snippets of the conversation as her body sinks to the burnt grass underneath her. 

“My team has spotted a rather sad looking castle or keep... I think.”  
“There was a recent war here.”  
“.... bodies everywhere.”  
“.... can’t stay at this location..... the children are afraid.”  
“We will need to find a good place to mine for metals and other.... technology...”  
“I think they may have some survivors.”

Just as the blackness settles around the edge of her vision a rather plump looking elderly woman gives out a small cry. In yet another odd accent the grandmother rushes to her side and placed the back of her hand against the fading mages forehead. Her conscious fading and the woman’s words with it, “Poor thing, I don’t think she’s one of ours....”


	2. Half-Ass Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year after the dragon hunt in the mountains of Caingorn Jaskier finds himself at the bottom of a tanker of ale and Geralt finally admits he might have been a bit of an ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My next chapter will be moving back to Yennifer. If you think you would like to be one of the survivors please give me a basic, very basic, physical description, preferred gender pronouns, and an idea of what you would bring to an apocalyptic event. I’d like to have characters that we can all relate to in a way.
> 
> Anything you have is welcomed. Please be kind and thank you for reading

Jaskier lifted himself from his seat and started to approach the Witcher. Try with all his might to bring some kind of tourniquet to Geralts emotional gore.   
“Whoo,” he started, “What a day! Imagine your probably won...”

“DAMIT JASKIER!” Geralt spins around on the bard with a growl, “Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days it’s you shoveling it!” 

Geralt hears Jaskier’s response echo in his mind as he takes the tanker from the bar. “That’s not fair.”

It wasn’t fair and the Witcher knew it. He had already been traveling for a good year since that fateful day on the mountain in Caingorn and the memory has not been treating him well since. Yennefer and her broken heart. He deserved nothing less than her back turned to him. He had toyed with her fate. She was wrong about the djinn and Geralt had saved her life. However, he could have been more honest about how he saved her life. He regrets his poor decision now. Somehow it does not hold a candle to how his heart aches at the shadow of the memory... his last words to Jaskier. “If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands.”

Gods how his heart ached. How his heart aches since that day. Drawing a long gulp of piss poor mead from the drink in his hand before starting on his mostly meatless pie. Even his food was mocking him today. 

He and Jaskier had history of their own. He spent a good 10 years traveling with the bard off and on. Sometimes they would part for a few months, sometimes it was a year or two. There had been a few “intimate” moments but nothing serious. After all, a Witcher didn’t get the chance to be serious not to mention such “relationships” were rare and unlikely to happen let alone last. 

If, if there was any chance Geralt had those kind of feelings, he’d felt them for Yennifer... right? 

Jaskier and he have had some fights of their own before... if he could find the bard they would figure this out... everything would be fine... right?

With a sour face he finished his sad excuse for a meal and drink before deciding to head to the towns “job board” which really consisted of a few official letters, some wanted listings, and with luck a cry for help against a local monster. 

——————

Almsot a year since the dragon quest in Caingorn and Jaskier was actually doing just fine! In fact, after the first week or so Geralt hardly crossed his mind. Yep, not even a hand full of times! Jaskier lied to himself again as he finishes his set at a washed up bar a smile plastered on his face. 

In all honesty he bawled his eyes out for days. The bard was not even aware of how much the damned White Mutt mattered to him. Sure they had some amazing moments, but Jaskier was not an idiot, there would be nothing else between them... or so he thought. When Yennefer showed up he first through it was kind of funny. This crazy witch would be a fling and the Witcher would move on. Oh how he was wrong. So very wrong. 

Three mugs of ale in and a tear starts down his cheek. That bitched fucked everything up. They were doing fine without her around. Occasionally the men would find warmth in a woman, sometimes they would separate for their reasons, however, most often they would come back together in one way or another. It worked for them Damit! It was the most Jaskier could ever ask for and he knew it so he took it and he enjoyed it. 

He was just starting his “occasional” spiral of depression and his fourth drink when the door of the bar opened up to the afternoon air and in walked the growling mutt himself, Geralt of Rivia. 

———

Geralt had found a contact on the sad message board for help with a terrorizing monster a town over. It would take him half a days ride but he would make it in time to find the informant and set up camp for an evening of hunting. 

Tying Roach off and entering the bar he did not expect that familiar sent to attack his nose. Stale beer, check, loud patrons, check, cooking food, check, sudden silence, check, citrus and sandalwood, Jaskier!

To say the moment was awkward is an understatement. The entire bar felt it as the eyes of the two men connected. Jaskier quickly downed his drink and wiped his tear away before the Witcher of fuck off could even notice. Let’s be honest, Geralt noticed. The bar tender cleared his throat, “Ughem, ah, are you here to answer the call for help? Your a Witcher correct?” His eyes slid to the pathetic excuse of a bard that’s been wallowing at his bar for a few days. 

Gruffly Geralt turns his eyes away from the bards blues and addressed the bartender with a grunt and a yes. Keeping just enough room between him and the door. Just enough so that when Jaskier attempts to slip out he’s within lunging reach of the white haired Witcher and is grabbed by the forearm and dragged close to Geralts lips. The larger mans morning shadow scuffs against his cheek and speaks in his ear. “We need to talk. Wait here.” Jaskier turns to face the taler man and meets his eyes. He puts all of his anger, all of his resolve, and all of his strength into the glare he sends Geralts way. This makes the Witcher’s heart falter with pain. He made that look. He created this pain in the bards eyes. He made that tear. 

A whisper of a word. A single consonant fluttering from the Wolf’s lips, “Please”. For all of the hurt Jaskier had in his glare there was an equal amount of remorse in that one word. He didn’t speak often but when Geralt did it could be overwhelmingly to the bard. Jaskier falters, takes in a deep, half buzzed breath, and nods his head. Dropping into an unoccupied chair like a sack of potatoes while holding his instrument close in comfort. 

Turned out to be a simple job, or well simple for Geralt. Another Kikimora. Not his first and it won’t be his last. He takes the job details and picks Jaskier up by the arm carrying him out of the tavern. Jaskier huffs a little bit, clearly upset, as he jerks himself out of the Witcher’s light grip. 

Geralt unties Roach and starts off toward the local swamp. Pausing when he realizes that the bard is not following but instead sulking. Arms crossed and standing his ground with that glare. With a hefty sigh Geralt turns the horse around and does his best to put his remorse back on. This is going to kill him if the Kikimora doesn’t. 

Returning to the bard he lets out another sigh. Raises his head to the sky for a moment of celerity. As quietly as he can manage but loud enough for the other man to hear, that word slips from his clenched teeth again. Twice! Twice in one day Jaskier hears a gut wrenching “Please”. 

Damit, Jaskier was probably a bit too drunk for this. His anger falters and it’s clear on his face. “Fine,” he huffs as he starts. Walking proves to be a small task but not impossible. He’s a bit slower that his companion would have liked him to be but they have time and the larger man is afraid of pushing his luck. Geralt can admit it only to himself in his own head. He’s afraid the younger man is going to turn away at any moment. 

The only sounds are the foot steps of the two men, the horse, and the occasional bird call or scampering squirrel. Once Geralt has found a suitable place to camp he ties up Roach and starts his usual routine. Everything about this is wrong. Even in the past, if they fought, Jaskier would at least sit down and pluck at his lute muttering complaints. He maybe would even stomp around with his belongings and try to make as much noise as he could showing his displeasure but not now. Now the bard is leaning against a tree, arms crossed, and just watching him. Geralt pulls over some stumps and fallen branches to make a bench. Motioning to it for Jaskier to sit as he continues to set up. The bard does not move. Cursing silently he swears he’d rather take a killing blow from an unwanted monster than continue this situation with Jaskier. 

He marveled at how easy it was for his words to flow around Yennefer but how they would catch in his throat around Jaskier. He keeps on turning to the smaller man, opening his mouth, and closing it again. The Witcher moves around the camp in a mechanical way unpacking what little they would need for the night. Stiffens up his back and turns to the bard again. Tries to make sound come out than clamps his jaw shut in frustration. Damit this didn’t feel right. When was the last time he felt so helpless with himself? He could not remember. 

At first it was almost too quite. Jaskier had to strain her ears. 

“I was wrong.” After no response Geralt spoke a bit louder, “I was wrong. I was not being fare. I have made a few bad decisions and have dumped them on you.” He sucks some air in and let’s it out in a huff. He has turned to look at the small bard but is having trouble so he keeps his sight on the ground trying to not clench his jaw too tight. He feels Jaskier’s piercing eyes and after a few heart beats smells the salty tears. Finally turning his gaze up he sees the puddle mess leaning against the tree. Jaskier has slid down to the ground with his back to the wood and knees pushed up to his chin. Tears streaming down his cheeks while his hands twist in the fabric of his jacket. Jaskier’s is worrying his lower lip hard and thought Geralt knew he had some to drink it’s dawning on him just how drunk the bard was. 

Geralts large shoulders sag. ‘Fuck’ he thinks. He’s really messed up. His heart is pulling apart in his chest. This pain.... it hurts more than when Yennefer left. For the first time in years he can not deny his feelings for the smaller man. Sure Yen and he had something and by gods it was real but... so was this. Kneeling down in front of the bard, his bard, he could see the gray hairs starting to take place, the crows feet at the corner of the other mans eyes. How it made his chest ache realizing he has let the years pass by with out truly being honest to himself. The pain he has put his bard through. 

Geralts hand brushed away the tears, “Forgive me.” That was all it took for Jaskier before melting into his Witcher’s arms which wrapped around his small frame easily.

They stayed that way for a little bit until Jaskier’s tears dry. He pulled out of the embrace and whacks the cable of muscle that is Geralts forearm. “You fucking mutt!” He cries, “how could you put me through this!” The Witcher let’s his head hang a bit to hide his pleasure. This was more right. He looks up and places a kiss on the side of his bards mouth. Rubs the bards back for a moment before excusing himself to finish setting up camp. Jaskier continues to complain about how lonely the road has been. How his muse, the Countess, took him back for just a few months before he couldn’t bring himself to see her face anymore. In reality neither man truly realizes the growing anxiety and loneliness they felt so far away from each other after such a fight. 

Finally, Jaskier drops to a bed roll leaning against their makeshift bench. Pulling is lute to his chest and strums it, pausing for a second to look Geralt in the eyes. 

“I don’t know how many times I can forgive something like this,” he says quietly and full of pain. Geralt’s face twists with deep set regret as he meets his bards eyes. “I know.” Before grabbing his swords and heading to the swamp. 

As the Great White Wolf skewers yet another monster and takes its head as a trophy, the Witcher’s Bard slowly drifts to a drunken sleep, and years latter Yennifer’s unconscious body is being carefully hoisted onto a stretcher by a group of people from a dead world.


	3. Finding A Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer is learning about the strange people from a different reality. She starts to see how much they truly need her, her knowledge, her abilities, and her care.

Yennefer came to with a jostle. 

“Oh!!! Keep the poor girl safe. Handle her with more care!” She heard the voice of the elderly grandmother as she rustled over. Opening her eyes she could see the woman fussing over her. “Your awake!” A dazzling smile spread across her dark skin lighting up her face in a true glow of care. This elderly woman truly wanted to see Yennefer safe and well. The smile was contagious and Yennefer could hardly stop herself from returning such a large show of kindness on her own face. 

“How are you feeling sweetling?” She asks as she tucks Yennifer more into her make shift bed. This distracts her as she notices the... blanket? that is over her. It’s a material she has never seen before. So thin and very loud as the lovely woman attends to her. Cracking with every move. She is oddly warm as this blanket gives off an odd shine in the setting sun. Not missing a beet the woman calls for water and tea for her charge. It’s the red head who brings a water skin... or what the mage assumes is their version of a water skin. There is no skin per say or a top to drink from that she is used to but she can see though this odd type of glass, she sees the water sloshing around. The younger woman puts some pressure on the top of the water glass seeming to open it up. She offers it to Yennifer who in turn disturbs the reflective blanket loudly and takes a cautious swig. It is in fact clean water. Most likely from a near by stream. 

Her nurse flits around her and the younger woman gives a slight sigh and Yennifer an apologetic smile. “Grandmother, i have put some water on the fire. Hopefully it will be hot enough soon. The hunting party is just returning.” The red head tries in vain to direct the elder woman out of the mages make shift shelter. Instead she receives a pat on the arm and smile, “You can wait before you question the poor girl Elle.” With a nod of defeat Elle reluctantly agrees. 

“Hello,” she finally greets their patient. “You can call me Elle and this,” waving a hand to the elder, “is Amahle. We usually just call her Grandmother.” Amahle some how gives Yennifer a warmer smile than the mage thought could exist. “We are pleased to have you as our guest my dear,” Amahle says as she turns to Elle. “Get some warm water and a cloth. A little bit of soap. Sponge bath for tonight I think.” 

Yennifer tries to pick herself up off the cot but is forced down with a hand on her shoulder and amazing strength for an elderly woman. “I am feeling well enough to move,” Yennifer starts to protest but Grandmother will not hear of it. “Do not worry sweetling, you had a nasty spell the other day and this is the first you have open your eyes. I will not have you regress in health.”

“Days?” The mage has issues hiding her worry. “What do you mean days?” She receives a pat on the cheek as the elder moves to stand behind her. It’s a bit weird for Yennifer to be handled and doted on like this. The woman starts to massage her shoulders and arms. Trying to rub out the stress that is turning in her bodies muscles. “You has quite a fright my dear. Elle said she pulled you through our portal but only after you accidentally fell through it from this world here. Or so we assume. What is your name sweetling?”

“Yennefer of Vengerburg,” she says oddly wondering if this is what it would feel like to have someone truly show love for someone. 

“Ah Yennefer, I am happy to have met you. Please, relax and heal, we have many questions for you and I’m sure you us.” The woman is massaging her temples now with so much care. “Where are we?” She asks first. Testing the waters of the old woman’s wit and will. 

“We are traveling south east of the battle. Aiming for a mountain range we saw maybe a week away.” Amahle pointed just out the small make shift lean to and Yennefer saw the Amell Mountain range in sight. 

“You shouldn’t go that way.” Yennefer paled. The strange people were heading into Nilfgaard territory. “Those Mountains are established and is dangerous land for outsiders.” Amahle follows her gaze quietly. “Rest dearling, I must gather the leaders. This is not good news.”

Elle and Amahle gather the seven people from when the group first came into her world. The people are open to her and hides nothing. She finds it easy to care for these people so she must work harder on keeping a neutral face. They have fought against the greatest odds, a world dying and little they could do to save it. Each person is introduced to her as a leader of their own organization or guild. Hunting and Farming, Safety, Building, Technology and Development, Social Care and Culture, and Health. She did not fully understand what all of that meant but she knew they were organized and had direction. That should help keep them safe. 

By the time the last light of the sun is setting Yennifer has learned so much about this group of people. They are trusting, their world had no magic in it but what they could not fix because of a lack of magic they controlled in other ways, technologies. She learned these people truly care and how could they not after seeing their world burn down around them?! 

Over the span of the next day she learns The Midgardians, as they call themselves, were looking for land to farm and mine. They wanted to settle but not be in the way of the world around them. The last thing they want is to be a burden. 

They have decided some space near and around the Blue Mountains might be the best decision. However, it would be difficult to travel there being a war and then a large group of people. Unless... Yennefer starts to make plans and strategies. These people needed her, oh how good it felt to be needed, and openly loved with no strings attached. 

———

Yennefer has been with the people for almost a week now. They have found a better direction and will try to find the people a home amongst the Blue Mountains. However the group will have to slowly make their way through Temeria and then Northeast to Kaedwen. The refugees will have to split up into small groups and travel under disguise on the road until they reach the far East side of the country. The plan will be put into place soon, within a few days. She has helped her lost friends learn customs, creat clothing, and even purchase a few items they may need. The knowledge and ideas these strange people have would not be openly welcome amongst the continents people and their rulers, she knows this too well. The mage would like to keep these people safe, give them a chance at new life, and watch them grow and flourish in her world. They deserved to make a haven for themselves. 

Currently she sits with a little girl named Emma bouncing on her lap. The eight year old claps her hands and says “What’s next Julie!” Loudly, almost screeching it into the sorcerers ear. 

“Hush little one. How can you receive an answer if you are not quite enough to listen to the story?” Yennefer scolds the small girl. 

The woman in front of her takes the task of looking after many of the children which she could understand however some of the social norms the Midgardians practice were confusing to her considering the structure she grew up with. Women were to marry and have babies, men were to rule and work, Sorceress were to control chaos but delicately. However, these people gave themselves more freedom. The women were hunting just as much as the men and those who trained in their fighting were also a mix. Some people were more free about wearing men’s clothing. In fact, most of the people were wearing what she could consider men’s traveling clothing. 

The woman named Julie was currently in the middle of a cautionary children’s tail about a woman who’s horrible step mother had used her as a personal maid and cleaning. This step mother and her awful daughters abused the fictional woman until she met a Prince at a dance. Though these people had not Magic their stories were full of them. Julie adjusted her spectacles which framed her dark brown eyes that matched perfectly with her tossed hair. She was a kind and warm person whom one could not help but smile back when she did grace you with her smile. 

The Midgardians warmed Yennefer’s heart in many ways she never expected. The story continues giving both a proper end to the miserable step mother and sisters but a very unlikely happy end for then fictional woman. The prince falls in love and sweeps her away. The end. Happily ever after. It’s foolish but she can’t help but fall in love with the sparkle in Julies eyes as she truly enjoys comforting the children. 

After a moment the children become somber. Julie hugs one of the little ones closer to her, “What is wrong my foundlings?” She asks, disturbed by their quickening silence. 

“We’re all going to be splitting up.” The boy in her arms says in a hushed voice. Julie and Yennefer share a saddened look of understanding. The children were worried. They have been through so much and now the unknown of what lies ahead of them is daunting. 

A slightly older boy piped up, “We’ll only be traveling separately for a short while, right Julie? And well all be safe. Yen will keep us safe.” He’s latched himself on Yennefer’s arm with the upmost confidence that with the mage as apart of their family everything will turn out just as planed. This warms the woman’s heart. She pats the boy, “It will be hard, it will  
be scary, and it will be troublesome however, you are all very amazing and strong children my little ugly ducklings. You will preserve and listen to your elders. We will do what we can to make sure everyone makes it into the mountains safely.” 

Julie nods her head in agreement and plants a quick kiss to the mop of curly black hair just under her own face. “It will be difficult and scary. You have all been through amazing, difficult, and scary moments. I have no doubt that we will all see each other safely in a few months.”

With the story over and the children’s worry’s calmed the two women gathered them up for their beds and wished them a pleasant dream. 

For the first time in decades, Yennefer truly feels her heart love, for not just the little ones but for the entire nation of lost people from a different reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long hiatus. This has been hard to write and with the new horrors of the world even harder to articulate. 
> 
> The original idea for this fic died a little bit in me and I’m so sorry for that. I plan on not abandoning it and will do my best to finish this well. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> Don’t forget to love each other.  
> Stay safe and healthy.


	4. Finding Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find Geralt and Jaskier are more than getting along now after they have reunited however it seems Sanger has come and a hard decision must be made.

Geralt and Jaskier are in yet another unimportant inn in a town a few weeks away from any major city. Just another village, another job, and an average day. 

The only difference from now than say before the dragon hunt is everything. Jaskier wakes up to the warm morning sun kissing his face and the soft steady of his lovers breath against his neck. His strong, impossible, and stubborn Witcher is still fast asleep covering most of Jaskier in scared sacred muscle. 

Since Geralt has run into the heart broken Jaskier and mostly apologized and made up the two men quickly feel into bed with each other. They have been basically dancing around each other for twenty some years, it was the most natural next step. 

Now Jaskier was free to enjoy his loves sleeping form slightly drooling on his neck. Yes, that’s something he never knew about Geralt, when the Witcher was deeply asleep, if he was lucky enough to sleep deeply, he could drool. Damit, a sleeping Geralt was soft and adorable to look at, Jaskier would never get enough of this. 

The bard was so enticed by the glory of the white haired man basically pinning him to the bed with his dead weight he didn’t even realize he was rubbing said mans back, effectively waking the Witcher up slowly. He was humming to a tune in his head with pure bliss and joy. It was this tune that pricked through Geralt’s deep sleep. The hand drawing shapes on his wide unclothed back pulls him from his deep sleep and it felt so good. 

Geralt pulls his bard closer and nuzzles the damp neck taking in a deep breath, smelling both of them on his darlings skin. The last few months with Jaksier back by his side have been pure bliss. Sure last nights was a bit rough and he can feel his new scar healing up from last nights fight but the troll was dead and he was paid handsomely for it. He happily dozed off in Jaskier’s arms enjoying the tune slipping from the bards lips. 

Geralt’a half asleep kind starts to make plans of buying some sweet or treat for his bard as the sun slowly rises higher into the sky. 

———

Sadly it’s Jaskier’s basic humanly needs that pull them out of the bed mid morning. They find themes eating what can only be described as brunch in the tavern when a group of travel weary people drag their tired bodies into the bar. It doesn’t seem too out of place till someone notices the shaking child clinging to a young woman, too young to be the parent. 

Jaskier and Geralt share a look, maybe another contract, a beast might have attacked a caravan on the road. 

A local gets one of the men talking and everyone’s heart starts to sink. No not a monster, not bandits, an army. Not just any army, no, Nilfgaard. They were moving, marching to Cintra. Panic grows in Jaskier and it reeks in Geralt’s nose. The Witcher doesn’t say a word just looks at his bard as he places a hand on the younger mans leg. He gives it a squeeze before he continues to eat their meal, calmly. 

It takes Jaskier a few minuets to calm himself but the message is received. Act normal. No one knows about the Child Surprise and a Witcher worrying about an army is a red flag. So they continue to eat in a painful silence. 

Jasper keeps on steeling glances at the refugees as they settle down with what little coin they have almost begging for a good meal. Calling over the serving lady he donates some coin to the meals the travelers will be needing. Geralt gives him a side eye glare, a warning, stop drawing attention, but Jaskier’s a bleeding heart and that would not be quieted. 

———

Hours later, far outside the village, all of their items packed and the tab at the inn cleared, the couple move as far away from the village and the refugees as they can before deciding they are safe to have a very private conversation. 

“We need to get the child.” The bard hardly waits for the camp to be set up. He is are gathering wood as Geralt sets up an area for the fire. 

Geralt straightens up from his position and takes a deep breath. This is going to be a hard conversation. He waits for Jaskier to set his bundle of wood down before pulling him into a hug. He holds the musician close to him, smelling in his scent, still very mingled with his. A deep sigh and a rumble of pleasure comes from  
his chest. 

“Jas,” the bard tries to pull out of his grasp. 

“Oh no, I know that tone.” He doesn’t get far as Geralt doesn’t move his arms. He wraps them tighter pulling his lark closer. 

“You can’t come with me on this.” He says so quietly he’s not sure if the other man will hear him, even as close as he is. 

“Like hell Im not!” Jaskier is pushing against his chest and he feels like it’s going to crack in under the bards emotion. Geralt hangs his head and lets it bump on the shoulder in front of him. 

“Geralt your not going up against an army alone!”

“I’m not going up against an army.” He says as he lets Jaskier move away from him. There is a pink flush of anger on the bards cheeks. 

“So what the fuck do you plan on doing than? Pray tell me.” He flaps his arms in the air as he releases angry anxiety and radiates emotions of hurt and fear. 

Geralt rubs his temples. “Please let me explain first before you get so defensive.”

“I’m not defensive.” Jaskier huffs, he’s getting defensive. 

“I will go ahead of the army. Arrive to Cintra and make sure the child is safe. If he’s not safe I’ll take him. I plan on going right to Kaer Morhen from there.”

Jaskier meets his gaze. “And why exactly am I not aloud along on this quest of yours? Being the noble I can get into the castle where you’ll likely have problems getting into the city.”

Geralt is shaking his head no half way through Jaskier’s reasoning which is extremely frustrating to the bard. He throws his hands up. 

“I’m not useless Geralt! You may think I’m just some silly flighty thing but I have more uses than sucking cock!” 

Geralt is pulling him back into his chest and there is no point in fighting it because well, Witcher strength. Silencing the bards rant with a kiss that is not exactly returned the way he’d like it to be. Jaskier glares at him and tries to start up but is silenced again. After a few more tries the bard finally stops trying to talk and just crosses his arms instead. Geralt’s most magnificent arms are wrapped around him. 

Normally he’d love to melt into that embrace but instead he resigns to glaring silently into yellow eyes. 

“I can not focus on finding and keeping the child safe if I’m also worried about your safety.” Geralt’s voice is soft and painful. His face is twisting into a concerned look Jaskier has never seen before and his heart falls apart seeing the pain in his Witcher’s eyes. “I can not be worried for your life while I’m also trying to protect the child.” A sword calloused hand strokes the younger mans cheek in a light lingering touch. 

Jaskier can feel his features softening, his resolve failing, and finally he gives under the weight of that hand. He pulls his love into a deep kiss and the decision is made. Geralt would go for the child, Jaskier’s would head to Kaedwen, to a village of Geralt’s choosing and wait for him in safety. Away from Nilfgaard, away from Cintra, away from the danger. All for Gerlat’s peace of mind. 

That day they purchase a nice gray horse and saddle for Jaskier. A tent, some extra supplies, and basic traveling clothing. Against the screaming worry in Gerlat’s gut he prepares his love for travel. 

They take their evening in each other’s arms. Wrapped in love and well wishes of safety. It takes all of Gerlat’s strength to let the bard go in the morning. Jaskier is trying to keep his tears to himself but the lump in his throat is heavy as they share one last kiss before the couple part ways. 

Geralt to the Southwest and Jaskier to the Northeast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems easier for me to write about just our bard and Witcher together. I will not give up however! This is a story idea I had and decided to take on and I will not just let it flop away. 
> 
> Next chapter is Yennefer again.
> 
> Please let me know what you think and leave behind any ideas or criticism you can’t that could help.
> 
> Don’t forget to check out the rest of my fics.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Please remember to love each other and stay safe.


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